


scars of our love

by Snowheart1



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bananas, Boyfriends, Canon Compliant, Canon Queer Character, Depression, Desert, Galaxy Garrison, Gay Male Character, Heavy Angst, High School, Horseback Riding, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Kerberos Mission, Loneliness, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Pre-Kerberos Mission, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Sleepy Cuddles, Sorry Not Sorry, Underage Drinking, is it really considered high school?, light fluff, queer author isnt a tag? damn y'all, really? light fluff isnt a tag either? what the fuck is up lmao?, shiro is confirmed queer yall!!, that has me quaking in my boots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowheart1/pseuds/Snowheart1
Summary: they talked about upcoming missions shiro wasn’t picked for, claiming him to be too inexperienced, too young-- until he wasn’t."what if i die?""i would never…" keith had pulled away from shiro then, throat collapsing in a futile attempt to stop his suddenly ragged breaths and the unexpected sting of small tears. he was so choked up that a few moments passed into a minute before he could continue. "i would never recover."_____when the news about kerberos is released, keith not only loses his boyfriend, but loses himself, too.





	scars of our love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to post this,,, hnnnn.
> 
> Shoutout to my wonderful beta @supernovaa78! He always knows how to make my stories better. Go check out their amazing works! (He has a Voltron crack fic if you’re into that.)

the day keith hears the news is hot, a sweltering heat that builds and builds and builds until it’s all you can focus on and your skin is burnt and boiling. and unfortunately for keith — or maybe fortunately—, the anger coursing inside him doesn’t feel too unfamiliar. he paces through the hallways in a haze not much different from the mind-numbing experience one gets from heat exposure, and his focus is blurry.

it’s blurry when he bursts through iverson’s office doors screaming and yelling, looking for a fight because _“pilot error is the most bullshit thing i’ve ever heard and everyone knows it.”_ he knows shiro was a fantastic pilot, the best pilot garrison had, actually. so he also knows that they blamed it on shiro because of his illness, because that’s always easier, isn’t it? the crippled and diseased are always the scapegoat, aren’t they?

it’s blurry when he throws all his belongings in a backpack, body numb yet bursting with adrenaline, desperate to run from the memories of a man he’ll never see again and from the lies of peers that never deserved his attention or respect in the first place.

and it continues to stay blurry as the days pass, each blistering hour blending painful memories of red and blue and every other hurt imaginable—fusing and merging until he is nothing more than a bleeding page of watercolor, far too destroyed and ugly to even look at. even as keith drives through the bitter desert nights watching the stars above, stars that will forever haunt him because _are you up there? will you ever come back? are you alive? do you remember how we used to sneak up to the roof and point out every constellation— every far away flame that we childishly hoped to touch?_

and keith’s foggy mind already has the answers supplied, because what other answer could there be that isn’t _“no”_?

eventually, it’s too much— too much emotion. so much emotion begging to be released, pulsing through his veins and seeping out every pore, screaming and writhing with unexplainable force in a body that’s much too fragile to contain such a thing. so he stops. keith pauses one afternoon and lays under the sun, absorbing every ray of overwhelming warmth and letting that be all he feels. he sweeps through every corner of his mind and empties all he finds— sweeps because it’s the only thing he knows how to do. sweeps because this anger will boil forever over a person he can never touch— _what’s the point of feeling if all I can feel is rage?_

and then he finds a shack.

 

* * *

 

 

the tally marks etched on the bedroom wall mark two weeks.

fourteen whole days of busying himself with pointless tedious tasks to fill the gaping void slowly expanding inside him.

constructing a small garage from scrap wood and metal scavenged from long rides across the horizon to house the stolen garrison bike. taking a day-trip into town to purchase paint so keith could color all the walls a “soothing eggshell coffee,” or whatever else the hell that means. and on the late nights when terrors plagued keith’s rest, leaving him restless and disconnected, he filled page after page of lined paper with the same question, resulting in a three-journal stack gathering dust in some corner.

really, keith believed himself to be doing quite well in this whole avoidance situation.

but there was always a breaking point.

always.

 

* * *

 

keith awoke quaking, blood pumping through his body furiously, preparing for a battle that didn’t exist. in his distorted desperation, his need for validation and quiet comfort, keith blindly reached across the bed— believing beyond reason that there’d be strong arms to clutch— but he was met with empty sheets.

and a new type of desperation set in— the type he’s been suppressing for weeks— the type where your lips trembled and your rib cage feels compressed and every bone in your being feels so unbelievably hollow and alone that a deep-rooted loneliness spreads through each nerve.

a realization so strong you sit there stunned, unable to comprehend the dread and emptiness clinging to every inch of yourself. a longing so hopeless and despairing as your heart reaches out for any shred of familiarity that could keep you rooted, anything in the entire world that could even begin to fill in the void so deeply buried within that aches through every muscle.

and so he cried.

 

* * *

 

_who am i without you?_

his fingers and wrist ached from overexertion and his finger spilled blood from a thin paper cut, something keith managed to earn in his haste to open the notebook. blood that seeped through the page, distorting letters into something ominous, something that reflected buried torment. but he kept writing through the pain, both physical and emotional, because distressed confusion overpowered everything in these moments. the moments where he awoke surrounded by darkness and eerie quiet. the moments where he sat trembling in his own internalized fear, nothing to shake away his thoughts but the sound of his own rattled breath. these were the moments where he allowed himself to feel what truly was, so empty and alone, to ask the question that he pushed into the back of his mind which had never left since the first moment he heard the news.

_who am i without you?_

because, truly, keith had never been alone like this before. he’d been dropped off at the fire station at an age too young to remember by his father, too young to grasp that he was vulnerable to a world so cruel and unyielding. he’d lived in countless foster homes, each family only tolerating his questionable behavior for a few months at most.

so keith had never experienced a loss quite like this, because he never had the chance to be so close to someone. never lived life knowing that there was someone steady by your side, a someone that would defend you till their last breath and make you laugh as tears ran down your face and hold out their hand when they stood above you.

wind shook against the shack, howling a tuneless melody that reminded keith how cold he was, how this new home lacked any semblance of warmth and never would, not without his star. his star of hot, fiery safety, a safety that wrapped around him like he was the most precious being in the universe, a safety that held him close, afraid to ever let go. but he had let go, and it would stay that way forever. and with this knowledge, keith kept writing. because he knew so little, so few about what could’ve been and should’ve been. all he knew in this moment was that no matter how shallow he breathed or how many chores he filled his day with, no matter how many words he scribbled in the silent night or how many tallies he scratched on the walls, no matter how many tears he wept or screams that bursts from deep in his stomach, there would never be anyone to fill the empty space left behind.

for he was born a supernova, fated to end in a titanic explosion of his own destruction.

_who am i without you?_

 

* * *

 

since the beginning of the weeks that keith had been in his shack, the silence that settled across the desert had always been unwelcome. perhaps it was the void of background distraction, or perhaps it was the absence of the familiar noises of the garrison. at least, that’s what keith told himself. but he really knew that it was unwelcome because it reminded him of the familiar sounds of the past, how unfamiliar the silence had been in recent months.

with shiro, it was never quiet. he was always doing something, flipping through notes, mindlessly humming, idly tapping his finger against any available surface. and god, he talked so much. outside of their rooms, he was constantly flooded with admirers, fans, other officers. but when they were alone he talked too, ranted about his responsibilities, about how _if i’m so popular and well-liked by my superiors, why is my bed as flimsy and unreliable as everyone else’s?_ because however god-like and mature shiro seemed to others, how he seemed to simply accept everything with understanding and be as wise and peaceful as he was successful, he truly was child-like at heart. he talked about silly things, too, like _have you ever eaten a red banana? ‘cause i had one two days ago and let me tell you-- i felt like i was deepthroating an elongated miracle berry._

that conversation actually led to the making of their favorite game, what if? they’d be in bed, enveloped by darkness, and instead of sleeping, they’d be challenging one another of who could ask a crazier question.

_what if… we stayed in bed for a year?_

_well, samurai, we’d surely starve. plus, somebody would come looking for us eventually and we wouldn’t want to be found like this, would we? now… what if ceiling collapsed and to save you i revealed my secret of having superhuman strength?_

_everything you just said is completely wrong. we could order delivery food every night, and if anyone from the garrison found us like this, it’d be worth it to see the look on their face. imagine all the possibilities! they could be so shocked they’d pass out-- or, or, uuuh… i don’t know. something else. plus, you already have superhuman strength so that wouldn’t be a shock._

_wh-- i am not superhuman! if i were superhuman then all my hours spent training would be meaningless._

at this point, keith paused, considering what to say. the whirring of distance machines and technology filled the room as keith brushed his fingers over shiro’s arms, still mesmerized by his muscles despite touching them nearly every day.

_also, never call me samurai, it feels weird because that’s what lance calls me and i do not want anything relating to lance to be in my relationship._

_what do you mean i can’t call you samurai? it’s so cute! when i see you practicing with your adorable little ponytail i don’t know if i want to coo and squish your cheeks or kiss you breathless against a wall._

_you’re embarrassing._

_and you’re avoiding that you forgot a what if question._

long story short, there was never silence around shiro. but their talks were not so pleasant and playful, because sometimes they talked about how keith had no one, how shiro was distanced from his peers because of the pedestal they placed him on. and they talked about upcoming missions shiro wasn’t picked for, because they claimed him to be too inexperienced and young. until he wasn’t.

_what if i die?_

_i would never…_ keith had pulled away from shiro then, throat collapsing in a futile attempt to stop his suddenly ragged breaths and the unexpected sting of small tears. he was so choked up that a few moments passed into a minute before he could continue. _i would never recover._

 

* * *

 

keith wondered in anyone noticed him missing. sure, he didn’t have any friends, the closest thing to companionship he had other than shiro was an obnoxious, hard-willed rival. but he still interacted with people occasionally, such as lance’s two friends who used to apologize for his behavior and then started saying hey when they passed in the hallways.

there was that girl in ESSR class who sat behind him and always laughed at the snarky comments he made towards the teacher under his breath. she tended to jokingly mock keith, for she had shorter hair than him and claimed that made him feminine. unfortunately, he wasn’t familiar with friendly jests, so they were at odds for the first few weeks of school.

and ethan, the ‘local brute’ with dark eyes and hidden tattoos, who started showing up in the school fitness room to spar with keith on the weekends. they didn’t speak much, other than quick words of encouragement to spur the fight on or some short-clipped advice. more often than not, keith would try to help ethan with his stance, despite previous efforts proving to be unhelpful.

_widen your stance so you’ll be more balanced and move faster._

_why would i listen to you?_

all these strange people in strange his life, and yet he missed those little moments. because, yes, it’s an understatement to say that keith isn’t the most social, but he also isn’t familiar with being completely isolated. throughout his life, he had been friendless, abandoned, alone, and every other synonym available. but he had never been lonely before. never been far away from the choice of people, whereas now he had to drive nearly two hours to even see the presence of one. he had always had the option to be social, and he had always chosen to be alone. but this time, there was no one to go to.

 

* * *

 

it was as if the gods themselves could hear keith’s unspoken pleas, because not even a week later, he found a horse. he had been returning from town, his weekly trip of grocery shopping, when he found her practically slumped into the ground with exhaustion. while keith had no past experience with horses, or any type of pet for that matter, it was fairly obvious from her frighteningly skinny frame that she was starving and probably dehydrated. and who could turn away from a pitiful sight like that?

they weren't very far from the shack, probably a twenty-minute walk at most, so he dismounted the stolen bike and rummaged through the bags. there wasn’t anything that resembled something a horse would eat, but he had hoped she would be hungry enough to be attracted to a banana or two. so with careful steps and a low, open stance, he walked towards her. keith thought that if he appeared vulnerable enough, she would let him come closer without a hassle, which seemed to be mostly true when she only protested with a few disgruntled snorts of caution.

an hour later he was home, a new horse obtained and a few bananas missing. while keith was vexed that he had to take a fourth trip on the bike today, he couldn’t ignore the dire state of his new horse, so off he drove back into town. after explaining the situation to a local feed-store cashier and somehow piling all sorts of grooming supplies, food, and care manuals onto his ride, keith was heading back home, the sun already setting across the horizon and temperatures dropping into something not quite comfortable. keith could only hope that some good would come from this adventure.

 

* * *

 

the tally marking four weeks also marked the start of july, the hottest month of the year. this inevitably meant temperatures of 112, 113, and so on and so forth. but this also meant a rise in humidity, so keith’s stacked up layers of sunscreen would melt off in mere minutes, creating an endless loop of rubbing sticky, old lotion onto sweat-soaked skin, which doesn’t make for a fun past time.

although, it wasn’t unbearable with his new favorite activity, caring for inky bus. (keith named her inky bus after a whole four days of awkward, one-sided conversations where he kept referring to her as _ma’am_.) every few mornings he woke with the promise of a calming routine, grooming her. the three rounds of brushing her hair clean usually took awhile-- but to keith’s pleasure, this was one of the few times where he could simply let his mind drift, not fearing that it might wander to an unwelcome area of thought. her stall-- which keith also built after another few days of scavenging-- became a safe haven, a small patch of earth that was sacred to him in a way none may ever understand.

her companionship was one unlike his other experiences, and he could not claim to be opposed to this. while of course this relationship took bonding and time to develop trust, much like any other, inky’s presence was also much more comforting than the average person. while keith was aware that she simply could not judge him for they did not function or communicate in the same ways, it was still nice to have a warm, faithful body waiting in the shadows absent of any malice, only providing assurance.

before keith knew it, he was replacing his fitful nights of tedious notebook words with adventures across the sand and rock on inky’s back. he was proud to say that she was fully recovered and healthy, even if there was no one there to listen.

and so their nights went on, kicking up clouds of dust as they rode across the red desert. keith, gripping inky’s mane, searching the sky above for answers to his unspoken question, searching for a way to piece himself together in this shabby world that could never be called home, and inky, growing more loyal by the days.

perhaps keith’s days might not be so lonely after all.

 

* * *

 

of _course_ keith had brought the pictures of them from the garrison in his duffle bag. why would he leave such precious photos behind? but on the first day he had successfully stored them away without giving them so much as a glance. so it’s not too surprising that when keith came across them while deep cleaning the shack, he choked in utter shock and grief. he had to lean against the wall and hold his chest, a hopeless attempt to hold his splintering ribcage together to keep his heart from falling apart.

shiro had always been striking, a man whose stunning appearance could take your breath away with a single look, and that certainly used to happen to keith on frequent occasions. but shiro never took away his breath quite like this, where the curve of his jaw and the photo-stillness of his eyes released an untamed beast, so rabid and furious with heartache that it placed crystalline rocks of cobalt in his lungs, for if you’re gasping for air then you can’t focus on any other pain.

with trembling fingers and a stuttering heart, keith thumbed through the loose photos with a haunting sort of gentleness. keith hated pictures of himself, so most of them were of shiro. a blurry mess of shiro as he passed keith on his bike with illegal speed, a grin so large stretched across his face keith use to claim that shiro would one day split in half. shiro shirtless and yawning, not noticing keith hidden in the blankets snapping cute morning pictures of him. a flower crown crooked on shiro’s head as he struggled to pose while giving matt a piggyback ride. they were all so dumb, so incredibly care-free and young that keith was jealous of himself and what he managed to lose.

the only framed picture, which was set face-down, had been shiro’s favorite. in fact, shiro went to a printing shop one night to make a smaller copy simply to have in his uniform every day. it was a kind gesture, something sweet, but shiro never told keith about it. he only knew because shiro kept his reason for going to the printing shop weeks ago a mystery, but one night when shiro immediately stripped down and headed off to the shower, the picture slipped out. it was worn-down and abused, a sign that shiro had probably rubbed it as a form of comfort when he was stressed or anxious. keith was unsure if this was meant to be something private, and he pressed down on the curiosity bubbling up inside him and slid the picture back into its pocket, never speaking a word.

setting the loose photos aside, keith hesitantly turned the frame over, eyes itching to explore every inch of the picture before he went back to cleaning. and there, in all its dusty glory, was keith, looped around shiro and undeniably shit-faced.

he didn’t like to smile, and only allowed shiro to pull them out of him when they were alone, but he was bursting at the seams in this photo. shiro's news of being selected for the upcoming kerberos mission just went public, and his friends were ecstatic. despite every logical reason going against it, _we’re underaged, if we caught we’ll be kicked out of school, none of us have a fake id so we’ll have to manipulate an adult into buying alcohol for us,_ they threw a party. matt happened to be close friends with the owner of a local bar called _the tipsy cactus_ and used his savings to rent out the place so they could rage without the chance of being caught by garrison staff. in retrospect, this was good idea, before realizing they all had to drive back before dawn.

keith had been invited, because _you think y’all are so sly, don’t ya? but we know you’ve got shiro wrapped around your finger. don’t worry, little red! we won’t tell. but you can’t miss out on your boyfriend’s celebration, can you?_ so keith, proud that shiro had accomplished his dream but also with his skin crawling with unconfronted fear, downed a beer as soon as he arrived. shiro arrived thirty minutes late, caught up by people congratulating him on his brilliance, and by then keith was already slurring words together. he remembers shiro was exasperated but found the whole thing amusing, because keith was a lightweight and he knew that by the end of the night, he’d have to bribe all his friends to not speak of keith’s drunk shenanigans.

_keith… i think you’ve gone from one to one too many._

_you stole that! you thief! that’s from a lame country song._

and shiro was right, because by the end of the night, keith had collapsed in fake despair after challenging someone to a dance-off and loosing. not only that, but he had started begging shiro to do weird things to him, like _tape me to this table and grow succulents on my legs._ when shiro managed to wrestle him off of the table, keith had swung his arms around shiro’s neck, both trying to be cute but also needing something stable so he wouldn’t tip over. he had leaned in to kiss shiro’s cheek but he turned and their lips met, and shiro pulled back in surprise. it wasn’t an action unfamiliar to them, but to kiss in front of their peers? completely new concept. but keith had shown no reaction of discomfort or surprise, simply leaned into shiro’s neck and whispered a confession. someone from the small crowd had managed to snap a picture, cooing over how sickeningly sweet they were.

_takashi, what if… what if i told you i love you?_

the memory of those words rushed through keith’s tunnel vision like a punch and he drew back with a jerk, the picture falling and breaking. he looked down at the shattered mess through blurry vision as his eyes burned hot with wetness.

two days later, the mess was still there.

 

* * *

 

the bedroom now had a little over 300 tallies, marking the quick approach of the beginning of a new year. keith knew little of what he would do with his future, including the question _will i ever stop marking the days?_ he fretted that he might run out of wall space eventually, although such a worry wasn’t actually important.

currently, keith was roaming the desert in pursuit of an unnameable energy that seemed to twist in his guts and cloud his mind. when the temperature wasn’t soaring high, he spent every waking hour searching for things he wasn’t sure of and mapping out canyons and caves, trying to connect the strange carvings in the rocks to something, anything.

in his admittedly scarce downtime, keith took up the hobby of reading. most of the time, any genre worked to set his mind apart from the present. horror, fantasy, comedy romance, even non-fiction. often times he preferred science fiction, the idea of a future so flawed or perfect fueling him much like the mysterious energy. but his most recent book began to plague his thoughts when he was out in the desert searching, and he started to replace that time with indulging in reading this book, along with ones that studied similar topics. _the hidden reality: parallel universes and the deep laws of the cosmos._

was there a reality where he and shiro never loved? where they never exchanged soft glances? could there possibly be a universe where shiro remained an unrequited crush, keith as just another far-away admirer? or even a world where keith had never made it to the garrison in the first place, where his father never left him or a foster home truly became a family?

keith sat on his porch, endlessly pondering such questions even though they destroyed him from the inside out and left him beaten and abused. keith remembers his last question to shiro, a question that echoes in his dreams.

_what if you don’t come back? what if while you’re gone i find somebody new and trade my love of you for them? shiro, shiro please. i don’t want to forget you. stay. stay. promise me you’ll come back home._

inky bus trotted idly in a circle in keith’s peripheral vision and he combed his bangs back with dirtied hands. his mouth tasted of dust and his tongue felt like sandpaper when he spoke, turning his gaze towards the stars.

“i refuse to believe in the existence of a universe where i don’t love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all so much for reading! What Keith does with his future is up to y'all, but personally? I think he dropped the energy and instead of going on to discover Voltron n' shit, he starts wasting away his days obsessing over the possibilities of other realities-- mainly because that means Shiro could still exist. 
> 
> By the way, ESSR class is a real thing! It stands for Earth Systems Science Research and it's a class available in some high schools that actually sets you up for internships n' jobs n' all that other cool shit for NASA! Exciting, right? Lmaoooo my high school can't even keep its art and language classes because we poor af. 
> 
> Y'all, to be honest, I'm HELLA shook. I set out with this story aiming for 600 words and ended up with 4.2k? Like, sure, 4.2k isn't technically a lot, but I have N E V E R written a story this long. Oh, I'm also shook that Shiro is confirmed with an ex-boyfriend, but I guess my queer little heart will just be over here collapsing. Life just be like that sometimes, ya feel?
> 
> Also, at once point I said, "an untamed beast, so rabid and furious with heartache that it placed crystalline rocks of cobalt in his lungs." Just to clear up any confusion, awhile ago scientists discovered a new crystalline material which has the element cobalt in it that allows the material to absorb oxygen from the surrounding air! I found that out last month and thought it was beyyyyond cool, so I decided to include it in this fic :).
> 
> Disclosure: I haven't written something other than an essay in what feels like years. Actually, I think its literally been years tbh. In middle school, I used to write all these random short stories and poems n' other shit, but I became unmotivated (and happy lmao) so I stopped. But! Here I am! In the summer! So distressed over everything team Voltron has been throwing at us that I had to let my angsty feelings out somehow! This got seriously off track, wow. Since this is my first time writing something for personal enjoyment and not for educational purposes in awhile (also my first ever fanfiction!), this experience has been super exciting. Sure, I'm not incredibly confident in my skill, but it was fun! So basically, I'm really happy that I could share this with y'all and this wonderful community :).
> 
> The sentence, "for he was born a supernova, fated to end in a titanic explosion of his own destruction," is completely dedicated to my bestest friend, who also happens to my beta reader as mentioned at the beginning. If you're reading this, I love you!! I'm so sorry for being an emotionless prick sometimes!
> 
> At some point I mention Keith telling Ethan to widen/lower his stance, and sorry if I fed you incorrect information? It's the only thing concerning stance that I can remember from my martial arts lessons from nearly two years ago tbh. This is just a long way of saying that you should do research or somethin' before relayin' this info to others.
> 
> Hey, fun fact (this end credit note will never end, will it?); I originally set out for there to backstory revealing that Keith was trans. But alas, it didn't fit the mood I was trying to portray. This story actually has three drafts-- and the first (original, obviously) included a "ptsd" dream of Keith being surrounded by his fears, dysphoria, and toxic past memories. Fun, right? Just thought I'd include that little detail here :).
> 
> When Shiro's friend's called Keith 'little red'? Yeah, I totally hc Keith being called that like a little brother by all of Shiro's close companions. I also totally stole that from my mother, because people use to call her that due to her short height and vibrant hair. The more ya know!
> 
> PPFFFTT IF ANYONE ACTUALLY READ ALL OF THIS SAPPY BS THEN thanks again and have a wonderful week! Best wishes from your disaster wannabe author!
> 
> Kudos & comments & any feedback is greatly appreciated :). My shaking heart seeks validation around every corner possible.


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